


fresh air

by dappledleaves



Series: alternate universes [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Pokemon, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Galar-chihou | Galar Region (Pokemon), Gen, Knuckle City | Hammerlocke (Pokemon), No Dialogue, Pokemon Championship, Self-Doubt, Team Plasma (Pokemon), Texting, now I sleep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dappledleaves/pseuds/dappledleaves
Summary: Wilbur’s in a new city. He knows he’s hiding, and he’s okay with that.(He doesn’t expect to find good coffee, good friends, and maybe, just maybe - himself, too.)
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: alternate universes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013103
Comments: 23
Kudos: 169





	1. carrotcake and coffee

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is my baby. please let me know what you all think! Pokemon au’s just make me smile :)
> 
> thanks to those on the mcyt discord who listen to my rambles
> 
> remember to respect the content creators! this is fic is based not on them, but the characters they play on the dream smp.

  
Wilbur dreams of clouds. He dreams of drifting over the ocean, enveloped in endless shades of white and blue. He can’t touch the clouds, though; he drifts his hands through them and never feels a thing. He doesn’t question it. This is a dream after all. 

Waking, in the early morning. Limbs heavy. Eyelids heavier. It’s easier to just go back to sleep. (The clouds are waiting for him. He doesn’t know where they’re traveling to, but the journey is never ending.)

Waking again, a little more willing to face the world. Altaria chirps softly next to him, stretching out as he brushes a hand over her feathers. She curls around him; he feels at home. This is home for them: a little apartment in Hammerlocke. The noise starts in the early hours of the day, and their heating is nearly always on the blink, but it’s theirs. He remembers moving in eighteen months ago - one flying taxi for him, and a second for his boxes, though he doesn’t have many. He left most of his things behind, and they became his brother’s. 

  
  
  
  
  


The creaking stairs didn’t faze him back then, and they don’t faze him now as he descends them, leaving his apartment and heading out along the street. It’s a habit, to jump from block to block of the cobbled streets, avoiding the cracks. It’s comfortable and routine and familiar, and he’s grateful for it; he’d started doing it during month three into his new life, and he’s made a point not to stop since.

  
  
  
  
  


Phil’s Axew winds around his legs, and he looks down at him with a smile. Altaria has drifted over to greet him - he runs a hand along her feathered side and she twitters cheerfully.

Phil says he’s glad to see them - he’s missed them a lot. They’re in the cafe Wilbur found in month six, where the red paint is just starting to peel and the carrot cake is sweetest. Phil’s just returned from his trip to Hoenn (the trip he wanted Wilbur to come with him on. He said no.)

Wilbur met him where all things begin: at the start. Three weeks into Hammerlocke life and he’s almost ready to give up and go home, his then Swablu on his shoulder, burrowed into his neck to comfort them both. A knock on the door changes things, though. A simple knock drags him into trying again. Phil is many things to him - a new neighbor, a new friend. That one afternoon of helping to carry his boxes up the creaking stairs earns him what he hopes is a lifetime of the both of them carrying each other's troubles. Phil is there when he fails a job interview. Wilbur surprises him on his birthday. They play cards. Wilbur writes him songs to make him laugh. Axew and Altaria curl up to sleep. 

Then Phil wants to leave, and he wants Wilbur to come with him. It’s not forever, but Wilbur can’t. He’s only just settled, he’s only just found home - he can’t adjust to adventure like Phil can. He waves him off at the train station, on a day when the wind whips his coat around his legs, and the cold air steams up his glasses. 

But now he’s back, and he says he’s missed him. Wilbur doesn’t know when Phil’s next adventure will be - and he wonders if he’s missed his one and only chance to go with him. He wonders if he’d even want to go, if Phil does ask him again. 

  
  
  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of dusk. He dreams of comfortable hammocks, and of looking up into a sky where more and more stars become visible with each passing moment. He dreams of warm fires and companionship, and watching the setting sun with friends. It’s peaceful, and it’s easy, and it’s always warm.

Waking in the mid afternoon. Not alone. Boxes of pizza and laughter and friendship in his memories; he curls up and goes back to sleep. 

  
  
  
  
  


He remembers this day well: a cozy thursday afternoon, cooped up in their cafe with his laptop balanced on his knees as he works. Tapping keys, the jangle of the doorbell, bitter coffee in the air. The door, bursting open. A teen, with long limbs - and an abundant amount of energy with nowhere to go - claiming he’s here to battle the owner. 

Wilbur sighs. He’s almost forgotten that the price of a good coffee and a pleasant atmosphere sometimes means sitting through pokemon battles. He closes his laptop and tucks it into his bag, out of the way of the chaos that is bound to come. 

Except there isn't much chaos. Because the battle is over almost as soon as it begins: his Cinderace standing proudly next to him as the challenger - he says his name is Tommy - announces that he’s going to be the next Champion. Wilbur thinks briefly of Technoblade; undefeated, masked, regal, with a glimmering crown gifted to him by his fans, and wishes him luck. 

Unfortunately Tommy hears him say that, and approaches his table. He sits, asks Wilbur if the carrot cake is any good. He doesn’t answer, sliding his plate over to him instead. Tommy grins, like this small act is enough to gain his friendship and loyalty forever - and Wilbur hopes that isn’t the case. He’s too tired for friends. Phil is enough. 

They talk, for a while. Tommy insists on buying him a replacement slice of cake, but they end up sharing it. He asks, suddenly, if Wilbur has seen a boy in green. Messy brown hair. Because he’d better not have - Tommy’s racing him and he’s sure he’s made it to Hammerlocke first - 

Wilbur hasn’t seen him. Tommy and his Cinderace high five. Wilbur turns to her for a moment; just as excited as her trainer, friendly to Altaria. 

Altaria seems to like Tommy, eating crumbs of cake from his hand. Wilbur trusts her judgement. When they leave the cafe an hour later, and go to part ways - Wilbur heading home, Tommy racing for the gym with the map he’s given him - Wilbur nods and agrees to watch his ‘rise to fame’ as Tommy insists he call it. Altaria flies around Cinderace’s head with pretty birdsong, and then they’re gone. 

Wilbur makes it home, and for the first time, tunes in on his television to watch a gym challenge being broadcasted live. 

Tommy wins, and he feels the tiniest bit proud.

  
  
  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of storms. He dreams of bolts of crackling lighting striking the earth, crashing around him. He’s left feeling awake and alive, like he has firebolts in his blood - and maybe he does, as the flames burst from his fingertips, blasting from his palms like _he_ is the storm.

His eyes open, and there’s darkness behind the curtains. He gets up, piling on layers of clothes - stepping out into the chill, the kind that only exists at three am, where the swirling mists hide mysteries and secrets that he cannot reach. He walks with no destination in mind, but with purpose in his heart.

  
  
  
  
  


He bumps into somebody - and the first thing he does, after apologising, is wonder why he looks so familiar.

It’s not something he can dwell on for long, because he’s made him spill him coffee. The man looks amused - and Wilbur insists on replacing his drink. 

He doesn’t have a pokemon with him, he notices. He doesn’t look like a trainer; a red parka jacket is folded up under his arm, and his bare wrist has no Dynamax Band. In fact, there’s nothing challenger related in sight. Wilbur doesn’t know why that surprises him - maybe it’s because the gym challenge is nearly over, and so many new faces in Hammerlocke are trainers nowadays. But this man: messy pink hair tied back in a bun, glasses perched on his face, holding onto his coffee like a lifeline - doesn’t look like a trainer at all. 

So why does he look so familiar? Where else could Wilbur have seen him?

He thanks him for the coffee, and they go to leave - and are greeted with the rain. Curse Galar weather. He loosens his grip on his umbrella, ready to leave… but pink hair doesn’t have one. He’s shrugged on his jacket, and he looks unbothered by the prospect of rain, but Wilbur’s caught up in the memory of the time Phil shared his umbrella with him, even though it meant his shoulder got soaked. This is that same umbrella, actually: gifted to him. He can’t get that fact out of his mind.

Wilbur opens it, and holds it over them both. Pink looks surprised, and Wilbur tries a smile, asking where he’s headed. He tells him he’s meeting somebody in front of the gym, and there’s a grateful quality in his voice that knocks on Wilbur’s chest. 

They don’t talk much, just a passing comment every so often. Unsurprise at the weather. The end of the gym challenge, drawing ever closer. He asks Wilbur if he has any favourites to win - and he says Tommy’s name, because he’s the only challenger he knows, the only match he’s watched. Pink nods his head, he’s heard of him too. 

He has to be some celebrity, right? Wilbur is certain of his familiarity, knows it like he knows not to go in the tall grass without a pokemon at his side, or how biking indoors is generally frowned upon. Maybe he’s one of those scientists developing tech for Macro Cosmos. Maybe he does commercials? He definitely recognises his voice.

He’s glad that the rain eases up before they reach the gym, it’s banners and billboards glistening from the water. Pink thanks him again, then waits, like he’s expecting Wilbur to say something - but what is there to say? His eyes are drawn to one of the billboards in front of them; a giant image of their Champion, Technoblade, stares back at him. Wild pink hair reaches his shoulders - and a jewelled mask glitters around his eyes. Signature red cloak billowing out behind him - and there’s a memory of his voice ringing in Wilbur’s ears. His familiar voice. 

Oh. _Oh._

He looks back to Pink. To _Techno._ He tells him he knew he recognised him from somewhere. Techno is laughing at him - with him - and Wilbur kind of wants to curl up and hide forever, but he’s also happy, too. Techno looks so normal. He’s just a guy, who probably doesn’t sleep enough, just like everybody else trying to live in this city.

Phil doesn’t believe Wilbur when he tells him. That’s okay. He’s just trying to wrap his head around the idea of Galar’s Champion wanting to hang out sometime.

  
  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of the dark. He dreams of wandering through waves of ink - midnight skies - charcoal - an Umbreon’s fur. He does not know where he is heading, but he is never afraid. Not once does he feel fear; there is a sense of calm in the air that winds around him, leading him safely to wherever it is he’s going. 

In the distance, there’s the sound of rain.

When he wakes, it becomes apparent that he’s been asleep all day. The sun is setting: ambers and scarlets and reds - and there’s a cold cup of coffee on his bedside table that he’s forgotten to drink. It’s spitting outside, and Wilbur watches the droplets travel down his window. 

It’s quiet. It’s nice. (He sleeps well that night.)

  
  
_**[Tall Child]  
** _

_[03:55] Wilbur_

_[03:58] Wilbur!!_

**_[Wilboring]  
_ **

_[03:59] wht_

_[04:00] what_

_**[Tall Child]** _

_[04:00] If I was in Hammerlocke right now where would the best place to catch a dragon type be_

_[04:00] hypothetically_

_**[Wilboring]** _

_[04:02] TOMMY WHY ARE YOU HERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT_

**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[04:02] SOMEBODY TOLD ME THEY’RE MORE LIKELY TO COME OUT AT NIGHT OKAY_

_**[Wilboring]** _

_[04:02] i can’t believe this_

_[04:03] did your rival tell you that?_

**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[04:03] Maybe_

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[04:04] ha, he got you_

**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[04:04] I need revenge, Wilbur_

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[04:05] you can revenge when it’s not four am_

_[04:08] but you’re here now, yeah? give me a few minutes, i’ll come find you at the station. we’ll get you set up in a hotel_

_**[Tall Child]** _

_[04:08] Okay, I hear you  
  
[04:09] But, better plan: you come with me and we go catch a dragon type now_

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[04:09] hm_

_[04:10] goodnight, tommy_

He ends up going, in the end.

He’s not worried that Tommy’s going to get lost in the dark or anything (and even if he does, he has a fire type to light the way.) It’s just, he’a a little curious. He’s never gone hunting for a pokemon to catch before.

He’s got a rucksack with supplies: thermos’ of tea, a couple of torches, spare pokeballs - he doesn’t even know what’s normally needed when one is hunting for pokemon to catch, but he’s curious. He wants to learn.

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to set his heart of a Gible, scampering about in the tall grass, and Wilbur might be cold, carrying a very heavy rucksack, and desperately in need of stronger caffeine in his tea - but the chill of the wind is also exhilarating, and the the sunrise is prettier than any he’s gotten to see in a while.

So when a Deino wanders up to him, sniffing at the empty pokeball he’s tossing between his hands, Wilbur allows himself to be convinced by Tommy to catch it for himself. He’s never had a pokemon other than Altaria, and he feels oddly protective of his new dragon type - he hopes she likes him. 

When they return to Hammerlocke, well and truly exhausted, the city is just beginning to wake up. He takes a picture of himself, smiling tiredly with Deino’s pokeball pressed against his cheek - Tommy photobombing in the background - and sends it to Techno: _[watch out. soon your champion title shall be mine]_

Wilbur watches Techno’s responses pop up: promises to defend his title to the death, questions about what pokemon he’s caught, and saying hello to Tommy - and he wonders fondly if the champion has just woken up, or if he’s even been to sleep at all.

He makes sure Tommy’s booked into one of the hotels, then makes his way back to his apartment - exhausted, but entirely happy.

He’s wandering the streets of Hammerlocke, camera in hand. His aim is to take a picture - the perfect picture - for the cover of his album, but he isn’t having much luck. The clouds (not anything like the clouds in his dreams, he thinks, almost fondly) are covering the sun, leaving any picture he takes dull and forgettable. Deino is with him, following closely behind. Wilbur is slowly trying to introduce him to city life.

Somebody taps on his arm. It’s a trainer, passing a pokeball between his hands anxiously. He asks for directions to the pokemon centre.

Something tugs at Wilbur, making him pause in his answer. What is it? _Green,_ his mind helpfully supplies. 

He asks (knowing it’s a long shot) - does he know Tommy?

It may be a long shot but it’s one worth taking: the trainer’s face lights up with recognition. He says his name happily - Tommy’s mentioned him before. Tubbo, as he tells Wilbur his name, has only just made it to Hammerlocke. He’s disheartened at the knowledge that Tommy made it here before him, but Wilbur admires how he doesn't let it phase him, taking a breath and focusing on the next thing. It seems he’s always adventuring. Always moving, just like Tommy. (Wilbur feels a pang of regret: turning down the chance to go on a pokemon journey when it was offered to him all those years ago. Would he have been like them? He wishes he had been.)

He points Tubbo in the direction of the pokemon centre, and smiles for a photo when he’s asked to; Tubbo sends it to Tommy with the message: _[look who I just found?!?]_

Wilbur looks down at the camera in his hands. The regret of his past may seem overwhelming, but he wants to try, now. It’s not too late. He hands his camera over to Tubbo, asking him to take a picture. Of anything, really, it doesn’t matter what. Tubbo lifts it up, gazing through the lens for a couple of seconds as he looks around the street - then takes a quick picture. 

It’s the cafe, Wilbur realises. Tubbo’s looking in the direction of the cafe. The picture, when he’s shown it, contains a red stripe of the wall, and the arch of the door. The ege of a table is just visible, and there’s an abandoned coffee cup on top of it. Wilbur can even make out the curls of smoke rising from it - warm coffee mixing with cool air. It’s perfect. 

He thanks him earnestly. Wishing him luck for the championship - and his Hammerlocke gym match - they part ways.

  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of open fields, in a place he doesn’t know. He dreams of gentle sunlight and green trees in the distance. He doesn’t think he can reach them, and he doesn’t try to. Flowers are all around him - and though he might not know their names their bright colours are soothing nonetheless. 

He wakes to Altaria’s birdsong, and knocks on the door. He remembers - Phil's got plans for today, and he wants Wilbur to come. The thought of it brings a smile to his face. He’s _excited._

  
  
  
  
Hammerlocke is alive with the thrill of the Championship league.

The streets are annoyingly busy, and Wilbur’s cafe is full when he goes to buy drinks for him and Phil. And yet, somehow he can’t bring himself to mind. Somehow, he’s a little excited at the prospect of seeing Techno on screen, in all the glory his jewelled mask and cape provide. Phil teases him - since when has Wilbur been interested in pokemon battles? - but sits down to watch with him anyway. Axew is sprawled out on the back of the sofa, curling against his apartment’s temperamental radiator, and Altaria is curled up in her soft bedding - one of the only things Wilbur brought with him when he moved. 

Almost every channel is live broadcasting the events in Wyndon, so even if Phil had wanted to watch that cooking show he likes, for today it’s not an option. They have bowls of popcorn and a biscuit tray - and Phil keeps glancing over at him like he’s trying to figure him out. In all honesty, Wilbur’s trying to figure himself out too. Until now he’s been content with sitting still. Staying put. Twenty months since moving to Hammerlocke - and it's just become a new place to hide away in. Tommy’s arrival has changed that. Wilbur can hardly believe how much one trainer’s enthusiasm and energy is rubbing off on him- and how different - better? - he feels because of it. His album is coming together. Next week he plans to repaint his walls yellow - blue - something _different._

Now, he and Phil tussle, laughing, both wanting the remote. Wilbur snatches it, turning up the volume: the Championship matches are beginning. He doesn’t want to hide anymore. He wants to leave. He wants adventure.

He wants to go back. Back to being offered the chance of a pokemon journey. Back to Phil asking him to visit Hoenn. (He wants to say yes.)

But that’s not possible, so he sits and watches the tournament instead. Altaria is by her spot by the radiator, Deino is asleep in his bed that Wilbur bought for him, and it’s nice. It’s nice, and he doesn’t want to lose it, but he also wants to leave it all behind. 

  
  
  
  
  


Wilbur’s phone buzzes, somewhere under the cushions. He fumbles in the dark, rolling Phil a little to the side to rescue it. The screen turns on - bright, annoying - and a series of messages pop up. 

_Two new messages from:_ **_[Technochamp]_ **

_[20:34] So you watched me destroy children’s hopes and dreams today right_

_[20:34] Can’t wait to do it again tomorrow. And the day after that. Why do these championships always take so long?_

Wilbur huffs a laugh; he tries not to wake Phil up as he shuffles into a sitting position and begins to type. 

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[20:35] i watched. so many crushed dreams_

_[20:35] you woke me up tho_

He waits for a response, scratching under Altaria’s chin when she glides over, chirping tiredly. Phil turns over in his sleep. 

**_[Tehnochamp]_ **

_[20:37] I don’t think I know of this sleep you talk of. Seems rather unnecessary._

_[20:28] Come get a drink with me, we can celebrate my victories._

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[20:38] gosh. galar’s great champion, drinking during the tournament? think of your responsibilities. your duty_

_[20:38] also aren’t you in wyndon right now_

**_[Technochamp]_ **

_[20:39] Such is the power of Flying Taxis, my friend._

_[20:42] Meet me at our cafe?_

  
  
  
  
  


He finds himself pushing the cafe door open, some twenty minutes later. He’s left Phil a note telling him where he’s gone, and who he’s with - not that he believes him yet. Wilbur and Techno always laugh over that: the apparent impossibility of the champion having a normal life.

 _Our cafe._ It’s nice to read the words. 

Techno waves him over, two steaming mugs of coffee already on a tray at their table. Wilbur is glad to see him - he’s glad to see both sides of him, really. Technoblade: Galar’s champion, an inspiration to many. A golden example for trainers that any pokemon can be successful in battle with the right approach. Techno: who values his free time, but values his friendships too; Wilbur swears he has some kind of intuition for whenever he needs somebody to talk to, a warm drink to hold in his hands, a quiet atmosphere to rest in. He looks tired right now - but he looks happy too, shifting along the booth to make room for him. 

Wilbur isn’t surprised at the type of coffee in his mug - they both know each other's orders by now. They spend the evening discussing Techno’s matches: which trainer’s surprised him, which ones he should look out for at next year’s championship, and the matches he still has to come. Tommy has a match tomorrow, Techno remembers, and Wilbur nods, aware. He’s already promised Tommy that he’ll tune in to watch.

  
  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[18:02] good luck child_

**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[18:06] thank u big man!!!_

_[18:07] I don't need luck though. There’s no way I'm losing!_

  
  
  
  
  
Wilbur’s surprised. Tommy hasn’t told him that he’s facing off against Tubbo today.

Both trainers look determined - and Tommy’s Cinderace is constantly moving, tense and prepared. Tubbo’s first pokemon is released from it’s pokeball: a Togekiss gliding gracefully above them all. 

Wilbur has told Phil about the rivalry the two teens have. They grin excitedly at each other; Phil turns up the volume. Spending time with Techno is rubbing off on Wilbur - he’s already theorising about the match’s outcome in his head. Possible moves their pokemon could have. What their strategies could be. Tommy and Tubbo know each other well, and they know each other’s battle styles. 

This is going to be a tough one. 

  
  
  
  
  


Tubbo’s beaming grin is frozen on the screen, the pause button capturing his victory. They should still be watching. They should be moving onto the next match. 

But Wilbur saw Tommy’s face when he lost, and he has to do something about it. On the paused screen, behind Tubbo, he can make out Tommy’s retreating form as he runs off the pitch. Phil’s called him a flying taxi so when Wilbur darts out the door he’s almost instantly off, headed for Wyndon. A couple minutes into the flight he realises: this is the first time he’s left Hammerlocke in months. This isn’t the situation he planned for this moment - but that doesn’t matter. Tommy is (sad, upset, angry) in need of a friend right now. 

Wilbur thinks he can be that.. Wants to be that. Still, it’s a little daunting, flying away from home. Away from the apartment - Phil - Altaria and Axew - the cafe - the cobblestone streets - 

He clenches his fists in his lap. He can do this. He can do this.

  
  
  


Tommy isn’t difficult to find. He’s told Wilbur in the past about the incredible bridges that arch over the waters - and how the sounds of the rushing waters helps him to collects his thoughts when he’s got a battle coming up. He’s there when Wilbur arrives, though he doesn’t notice him at first. Cinderace does, bounding up to meet him and guiding him faster towards her trainer. She must be worried. 

Tommy doesn’t seem surprised to see him. Wilbur wonders if he knows this is the first time since arriving there that he’s left his new home behind. Wilbur goes to say something but he’s interrupted by Tommy’s declaration: it’s supposed to be him. He’s supposed to be the champion. Tubbo is his rival, but he’s not supposed to win. 

And well, Wilbur may have come all this way, he may have faced his fears for Tommy - but he’s allowed to think he’s being just a tiny bit unfair. 

He asks him if he really thinks that. Tommy opens his mouth, then closes it again. Silence. Then - 

No, Tommy says that he doesn’t really think that. Wilbur understands (no he doesn’t, he’s not a trainer, how could he ever _hope_ to understand) how much the championship means to Tommy - but he tries to remind him how much it probably means to Tubbo too. How much he will appreciate his support. 

Wilbur doesn’t want to wait for a flying taxi to arrive, so he takes the train back to Hammerlocke. When he arrives home again, it’s like a weight has been lifted from his chest, but still. He’s proud of himself. He’s proud of Tommy, and Tubbo, and everyone, really.

Everybody is trying their best, and he wants to do the same.

His bookcase, dusty and pitiful, begins to fill up slowly. Book by book, the shelves are filled, either with books he's bought or ones his friends have gifted him.

Phil, ruffling his hair cheerfully as he slides over a slim, rectangular parcel on his birthday. It's a book on the history of photography, and Wilbur swears he isn't crying. Techno, handing him a booklet one day, the cover glossy and new, about Altarias: their eating habits, migration patterns, and birdsongs. Wilbur can't stop smiling. Tommy and Tubbo, sending him a photo album in the post - and on the lime green sticky note they let him know its for keeping a collection of trainer cards . A collection, Tommy writes, that he really should get started on. They've added their own cards in the book already - Tommy is holding out a pokeball in front of him with a triumphant smile on his face, and Tubbo is waving at the camera. Wilbur reminds himself to ask for Techno's card when he gets the chance.

  
Tubbo gets to the final; however Technoblade is the one to achive victory for the fourth year in a row (Wilbur goes out with him for more celebratory coffee.)  
  


  
He’s confused, when a steaming mug of coffee (that he definitely hasn’t ordered) is placed down in front of him, with a crumbling cookie next to it. Chocolate chip. He likes chocolate chip. 

Looking up, he can read the nametag of the waiter - _Quackity._ A nickname? The waiter smiles, something easy and friendly, and Wilbur wants to thank him but he didn’t order this. Quackity says he knows, but Wilbur looks like he needs it. 

He looks from the coffee, inhaling the steam, then back to the waiter. Won’t his boss mind? Quackity laughs, he doesn’t think so, seeing as he’s the owner of the cafe. 

He leaves with wishes of good luck for whatever Wilbur’s thinking so hard about, and if he notices his flush of embarrassment, he kindly doesn’t mention it.

  
  
  
Wilbur dreams of... something different. Not a place, but sounds: rich laughter, ringing bells, the humming of a tune. There is nothing to see, but everything to listen to, and Wilbur is more than willing to get lost in the music of it all. If he concentrates, he can hear bits and pieces of his own music; behind that is the sound of something else. Something new.

He throws off his duvet when he wakes up, apologising to Altaria as he hurries for paper and a pen. The music is still drifting in his head, and he scribbles down the notes in the dark before they can float away. He could leave it at that, but it’s not enough: he has to strum the sequence quietly on his guitar once, twice, before he’s satisfied and can fall back into the embrace of sleep.

When he dreams again, the music haunts him, and he’s glad of it.

He darts through the door, with not much time before the cafe closes for the night. Quackity looks up from the notebook in his hands, expression brightening when he recognises him. 

Before he can ask Wilbur if he wants his usual - he asks if they’re hiring. 

Quackity asks - why? - and Wilbur tells him. He tells him about wanting to travel, about wanting to make up for all of the opportunities he’s missed out in the past. He tells him about trying new things, saving up money so he can see a region that isn’t Galar, and - 

And Quackity is easy to talk to, so Wilbur tells him more than he thought he would. The cafe owner just nods, listening to what he has to say. He doesn’t apologise and say he’s too busy to hear his life story, and he doesn’t pay him on the shoulder and inform him they’re not looking to hire anybody right now. What he does do (Wilbur’s glad, he’s so grateful) is offer him a job there and then, telling him to come back at seven am the next day.

He gives Wilbur his number - ask him if he’s got any questions, alright? Wilbur can only nod, stunned, and head out when Quackity smiles warmly and says goodnight. 

_**[Wilboring]** _

_[23:40] so does this mean I get free coffee or_

_**[BigQ]** _

_[23:43] HA_

_[23:43] no <3_

Techno is staring intently at Deino, muttering to himself. Wilbur wraps his coat tighter around his shoulders; the wind is strong tonight, with some sort of bittery vengeance against him. He hasn't wrapped up warm enough, but he thinks about the excitement that had been in the champions voice, and he thinks that its worth it. 

Eyes shifting from Altaria, and back to Deino, Techno nods. Wilbur wishes he would share his thoughts. Then Techno asks - out of the midnight blue - if he wants to become a competitive pokemon trainer, and Wilbur almost wishes he'd hide his thoughts away again. 

He's has no clue what to say. Techno smiles, voice lost in a laugh and a yawn, and says _yes_ would be a good place to start. He'll train Wilbur himself. He has potential (the champion thinks _he_ has potential) and he doesn't want to see it go to waste.

And Wilbur realises - hasn't he been looking for something just this to come along? He had thought he'd find the adventure he wanted in a pokemon journey, but this also has the potential to be an adventure. Deino, usually ever so shy, is brave enough to butt his head against Techno's leg - and Wilbur wonders if he can be brave enough for this too.

He nods, before he can change his mind, and Techno's grin is successful and pleased. 

(Wilbur has no way of knowing what that one choice is going to bring him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was just going to be a sbi fic but quackity and tubbo said no. add us. you won't regret it.
> 
> hope you enjoyed! please leave me comments, I do love them so
> 
> i’ve gone into lockdown for my college, so I’ll probably pass the time by adding to my word count for nanowrimo. are any of you doing that this year? oh and if there are any tags you think I’ve missed, please let me know!
> 
> stay safe and have a good day/night!


	2. peppermint tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Deino has gone, Wilbur tentatively follows.
> 
> It’s on this quiet thursday that Quackity tells him what he used to have.

On his first day at the cafe, he meets his coworkers. There’s Quackity, obviously, who tosses him an apron and patiently leads him through using the machines. It’s an exciting feeling - getting the opportunity to make the drinks he loves so much. Though he’d previously mentioned the lack of free drinks this job would provide, Quackity slides Wilbur his regular across the counter, and wishes him luck for his first day. 

Then there’s someone he recognises after all the times he’s stopped by for coffee, but never spoken to. He shakes Wilbur’s hand - all relaxed shoulders and peaceful smile. He’s George, he tells him. Thank goodness he’s here, Quackity is driving him insane - which earns him a tea towel thrown at his face. 

The thought that Quackity and George are fighting quickly leaves Wilbur’s mind, though. Both of them are smiling. It seems like they’ve been friends for a long time: the kind of friendship that cannot crumble, that look leaves no room for true anger, or jealousy, or doubt. Wilbur hopes that he and Phil can have something like that. Some day.

Because of George’s clouded glasses, Wilbur can never tell where he’s looking. But in this moment: George’s Absol is staring at him clean a coffee mug, unblinking, like he’s trying to figure him out. His eyes are like pools of cherry wine; Wilbur feels unsteady on his feet, simultaneously feeling like he’s surrounded by an uncountable number of people, and also in the middle of absolutely -

Quackity explains, not bothered at all - he’s waiting for Wilbur to introduce himself. So he does so, kneeling to be on Absol’s level, holding out his hand, palm to the ceiling. After a pause, Absol sniffs his fingers (which are covered in cinnamon) and pushes his head against his hand. Wilbur feels able to breathe again, which is odd, because he hadn’t realised he was holding his breath. When he stands, George is there with a smile that lingers on a sense of contentment - and he says that Absol likes him. Wilbur jokes: it’s probably just the cinnamon. 

He never sees Quackity’s pokemon. He knows he has one to battle the trainers that challenge him, but he doesn’t feel like he’s known him long enough to ask about them. He watches George and Quackity’s friendly bickering, humming to himself as he pats Absol’s head.

  
  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of an orchard. Old trees twist into the sky to run their branches through the candyfloss clouds, and he can almost sense the tree roots that sink deep into the earth, so solid that they could be credited with holding the planet together.

When he wakes up, the headache that had been bothering him has disappeared completely. He spends the day with a clear mind, heart at complete ease.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Quackity slides him a coffee - but this time something is different. There’s a card taped to it, and Wilbur slowly removes it from his cup.

_Meet me outside of the gym. T._

Wilbur laughs, letting Quackity see. Too many of his friends have names beginning with T. He has no clue who this is. Or maybe he has a little bit of a clue, because the mint flavour of his coffee is one that he remembers promising Techno he was going to try. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Techno wants him to meet someone. Wilbur is used to this by now - the champion has been introducing him to a countless number of important people, introducing him as things like _friend_ and _protegee_ and many other titles that make his head spin. He always tries his best to be calm and polite, and avoids all of the questions about how his training is going, because Techno hasn’t actually started teaching him yet. He isn’t even sure what moves his pokemon know, but he always gladly accepts Techno’s offer to drive him home after tiring days of socialising with Galar’s finest.

He admires how comfortable Techno looks among them. He’s proud, even though he didn’t even know him during his rise to fame - but that hardly matters. He remembers late nights, coming home to the apartment, a tired Techno following him upstairs for a cup of tea. He remembers pointing at him with a fist full of teabags, saying how proud he is of everything he’s done. 

He also recalls how quiet Techno was for the rest of that night, save for when he accepted cup after cup of offered tea, like he didn’t want to leave. There were no bold statements, there was no hint of Technoblade, the bright, shining star of a champion - just gentle laughter at the film on tv, and tiny grins when Wilbur offered to play him something on the guitar he’s yet to show to anyone.

There is no such grin on his face today when Wilbur waves to get his attention, arriving at Hamerlocke gym. His smile is something gleeful and excited, Wilbur asks him if he should be worried. 

Techno laughs - of course there’s nothing for Wilbur to worry about - before dragging him inside.

One thing leads to another, and suddenly Miss Nihachu - the Hammerlocke _gym leader_ , known for her skill with dragon types - is shaking his hand. With a laugh, she casually mentions that she likes his music - and Wilbur tries to act like this information isn’t greatly affecting him at all. Techno grins. Wilbur wants to call him a bastard, but he’s far too fond of him for that. 

Niki must notice how starstruck he is, because she nudges Techno, asking if she’s broken him. And Wilbur knows - that’s going to keep the champion entertained for hours. Maybe Wilbur will consider insulting him after all.

Before they sit down and discuss anything, Niki says she’d like to see his dragon types. Wilbur is a little confused - still unaware of what discussion Techno has brought him here for - but he releases Altaria from her pokeball first. She materialises first in that flash of light they all recognise, and then her silhouette fills with colour: blue of the sky, and the sea, and sapphires that Wilbur has never seen but does not need to, in order to understand their beauty. 

Altaria stretches her wings, gliding to Techno - a familiar face. He holds out his arm for her to land on as if it is second nature; to be fair it most likely is. Since the day Techno offered to become his teacher, Wilbur has made a point of watching all of those champion tournaments he never used to bother with, and he knows of the formidable Talonflame that he has on his team.

Deino is next to follow, winding himself around the safety of Wilbur’s legs. Niki sits down on the turf of the gym’s pitch, waiting for him to approach her first. Wilbur’s encouragement nudges him across, slowly; Niki holds her hands out - palm up for him to inspect. Carefully, her fingers curl to scratch his chin - and Wilbur swears to Arceus that Deino honestly _purrs._

He’s impressed. He’s jealous. More so when Altaria swoops over, crooning as Niki runs her fingers through her feathers. She tells him his pokemon are wonderful - and she sounds like she means it.

Wilbur knows her story well enough. She can’t be much younger than him - and she’s already reached so far, achieved so much. Word is she took over the position of gym leader when her grandfather retired, and Wilbur feels some aching mix of awe and envy swirl round his head. This path, handed to her. This life, this perfect life, is like an apple on a tree - falling right into her cupped hands. Wilbur feels as though he’s a pitiful sapling next to her; he’s struggling to grow in soil that isn’t meant for him.

Techno asks after Altaria and Deino’s potential. Something uncertain knocks on his chest. Hasn’t he already told him that the potential is there? Has Techno changed his mind? Is this the end of his journey? It can’t be - it just can’t. He’s only just getting started. There’s so much more of himself that he’s willing to give.

Niki grins, completely at ease in her life as a trainer. She tells Wilbur not to worry - has she noticed his fear? - Altaria and Deino have hopeful prospects. She and Techno are grinning now, sharing something Wilbur isn’t allowed to comprehend.

He doesn’t dislike her. He doesn’t not-dislike her. He calls his pokemon back to his side.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Wilbur dreams of crushing weight. He dreams of busy crowds, walking through a city with streets that he does not know. He feels the gaze of many resting on him - even though not a single soul will meet his eye. There is a sense of responsibility that keeps his feet moving, even though each step is increasingly difficult to take. 

Waking; he feels like he hasn’t slept a wink. Without the aid of an alarm clock, Wilbur doubts he would have woken up today at all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s a quiet Thursday in the cafe, and Wilbur is nearing the end of his shift. Quackity is fiddling with the cash register, and if he notices George asleep in one of the chairs while Absol curls around his feet, he doesn’t say anything. 

Wilbur isn’t sure Quackity is noticing anything right now. Tension creases his forehead - something Wilbur wants to rub away but isn’t sure how. 

Luckily, he’s brought Deino with him today. This has always been his quietest shift, and bringing his shy pokemon along to help him get used to the city seemed only logical at the time. As shy as Deino is, he adores Quackity - or maybe he just adores the fact that he’s a never ending supply of snacks (buckets of them, in fact, kept in the cupboards.) Wilbur’s learning to be less cynical - so he tells himself it’s the first option. It’s not hard to believe; Quackity just seems to have a way with pokemon, and if he told Wilbur that he could understand them, he wouldn’t even doubt him. 

Deino is sent over, nudging Quackity’s knees. The unhappy expression immediately drifts away, Quackity grinning and kneeling down to welcome him into his arms. Where Deino has gone, Wilbur tentatively follows.

It’s on this quiet thursday that Quackity tells him what he used to have.

He hasn’t always run this cafe - his life used to be plane tickets and postcards, the whole world his destination. These journeys weren’t made alone, either; he smiles at Wilbur, recounting the pokemon that used to walk by his side every step of the way. 

Espeon. Froslass. Noivern.

The unspoken question hangs between them. _Where did they go?_

He tells Wilbur about the final trip he ever made, with a destination of bright, shining Unova. They’d been there a week at most when an advertisement for the Royal Unova caught his eye. He describes the ship with a bitter tone to his voice: endless cabins, ice blue swimming pools - and ultimately, the perfect target for Team Plasma.

Wilbur knows that name. Who doesn’t? Most of the world’s regions have troublemakers - but Plasma is known in Unova for stealing the pokemon of others, claiming to be freeing them. Wilbur imagines a day where Altaria isn’t there, chirping gently to wake him up. Sadness doesn’t begin to describe how that makes him feel, how Quackity must be feeling, and Deino whines - nudging Quacity’s chest with his head. 

Team Plasma stole his pokemon, then. And Quackity hasn’t left Galar since.

They close up early. Wander the streets of Hammerlocke. Quackity doesn’t bring up the topic again, and Wilbur doesn’t ask him to.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Wilbur opens the booklet Techno gave him, solely focused on learning whatever new information about Altaria that he can. Most importantly, what moves she can use. Was Techno planning to make him a trainer, even back when he’d gifted him this? He wonders, lost in the sense of shocked awe that’s overcome him, questions filling his head that he knows he’ll never work up the courage to ask. He doesn’t need to know when Techno decided he had potential. All that matters is that he’s given him a chance, and Wilbur is going to make the most of most of it.

He asks Altaria, almost sheepishly, if she knows how to use Fly. In response, she flies onto his shoulder, and he swears she has a judging look on her face. He laughs, he doesn’t mean _can_ she fly, he means can she use the _move_ \- 

Oh, Arceus. He gives up. Another day.

  
  
  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[01:37] i told deino to use bite_

_[01:37] and he bit me_

  
  
  


**_[Technochamp]_ **

_[01:40] HA._ _  
  
_

_[01:41] They grow up so fast_

  
  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[01:42] i am in the hospital. your student is going to perish_

  
  
  


**_[Technochamp]_ **

_[01:43] You’ll be fine._

  
  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[01:44] you care not for me. you’re my least favourite champion_

  
  
  


**_[Technochamp]_ **

_[01:45] I’ll bring you a coffee._

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[01:45] :)_

  
  
  


Wilbur swats Techno’s shoulder - this is not a _laughing_ matter - before accepting the coffee he offers with as much dignity and grace his sleep-deprived body can muster. Techno yawns his way into the chair next to him, expression fond as he pets Deino: head on Wilbur’s knee and apologetically glancing at his bandaged hand. 

Techno claims Deino deserves forgiveness. Wilbur scoops him up, ruffling his head. Of course he forgives him. It’s his fault for deciding to start training in the middle of the night, when both he and his pokemon were tired. Deino brightens, chasing after Wilbur’s hand, snapping playfully at his fingers (noticeably much more gently than before.)

A flying taxi waits for them both outside; Techno greets the driver by name, giving her Wilbur’s address. The fact that he knows, that he remembers, makes Wilbur smile into his hand, - and when they get back to the apartment he insists Techno stays. It is still incredibly early in the morning, and he is only just realising that the champion must be feeling as tired as he is, even if he is better at hiding it.

The last thing they both need right now is more coffee, so Wilbur brews two cups of decaf tea, apologising under his breath when the kettle hisses noisily. Altaria has always been a restless sleeper. Grateful smile playing on his face, Techno accepts the drink. As he sighs, he sinks into the sofa, examining the room with increasingly drowsy eyes.

They both need sleep, and yet Wilbur can’t find it in him to close his eyes. He can see the question in Techno’s gaze as he sits on the floor, pulling open the chest of drawers his television stands on. He rifles through the scattered collection of dvd’s while promising himself yet again that he’ll organise them eventually. Once he’s located the disc he wants, he lets it play, dropping back onto the sofa and bringing a blanket with him. He’s fond of it: messy purple patchwork, still slightly holding onto the smell of moss and leaves and home. Ballonlea feels like yesterday, tomorrow, and twenty years away. Home is poison and fairy blended together in a kind of chaotic harmony that somehow _works._ He doesn’t think he could describe it if he tried. It’s a good thing nobody’s ever asked. 

He throws the blanket over them both, breathing in the familiarity of moss and tea. Techno bundles himself up - what are they watching? 

A younger version of the champion at Wilbur’s side takes over the darkened screen. The noisy music that’s credited to gym battles blares out of the speakers, and they both curse and scramble for the remote, turning down the volume while they shake with repressed silent laughter. The last thing they need is a noise complaint at… whatever time it is. 

Techno is quick to quieten down, watching himself as he tosses a pokeball into the air. His hair was pink back then too - but Wilbur can just make out the brown of his roots. He wonders what it feels like: watching a past version of yourself, immortalised forever. Does he wish he’d done things differently? Won more battles? Travelled further than galar’s island borders? One day, hopefully, people are going to know his name too. He entertains the thought of watching back one of his own battles one day, wondering what future him will think of himself. Wonders if he’ll tell people that he wishes he had a different haircut, wishes he’d accepted that number, wishes he’d been stronger, better, _more._

Wilbur’s already wishing. He's wished for a second chance, and he’s got one. Thank Arceus for that.

Techno carefully sets down his tea. He must know what match they’re watching by now. But even if he doesn’t, the presenter calls out to the crowd letting everyone know: _the battle for the champion’s title has begun!_

His sigh, deep and fond, is heartwarming. He asks Wilbur’s reasoning. Why him? Why this match?

And well, the truth is easy to admit in the earliest hours of the day. Wilbur loves this match. Loves this team. Loves the battle cry that Techno yells; that his pokemon echo afterwards. He loves the joy that comes with this victory - he loves the proud smile that Eret wears when they are defeated by the worthiest of challengers, and offers Techno the crown from his own head. 

He loves his friend. Both the one on the screen, revelling in the audience’s cheers as if they are instruments, and his victory is the musical score - and the one next to him, pressed against his shoulder, bundled up in Wilbur’s blanket from home. 

He knows how lucky he is, for this second chance. How lucky he is, for this friend.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[11:42] Hey!!! Come meet us outside the pokemon centre._

  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[11:45] no thank you_

  
  


**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[11:45] >:( _

_[11:46] Pleease, Wilby_

**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[11:47] did you just call me wilby????_

  
  
**_[Tall Child]_ **

_[11:50] IT WAS A TYPO STFU_

  
  
  


Tubbo greets him as Wilby when he turns up, avoiding Tommy’s jabs of an elbow. He bundles them inside, hurrying to tap the screen of the waking Rotom PC. WIlbur, confused, takes his place in front of the screen. He’s half-surprised by Tommy taking his picture and digitally sending it to the files of his Rotom account, and Tubbo opens the card making program before standing aside. 

He gestures to the screen. Wilbur’s picture looks back at him, a candid moment with raised eyebrows and widened eyes. He didn’t brush his hair this morning. It’s not unfair to describe himself as a mess - it’s school picture day all over again.

It is about time he got his league card, though. Tommy and Tubbo beam as he starts filling out his information. It may not be perfect: he lacks any badges, and he’s yet to even choose his jersey number - but it’s a start. It’s his start.

He prints out a copy for each of them. For their collections, he jokes. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_[Nihachu.]_ **

_[18:59] I thought you might be wondering why Technoblade introduced us._

  
  
  


**_[Wilboring]_ **

_[19:04] he’s introduced me to a lot of people. I stopped asking why_

  
  
**_[Nihachu.]_ **

_[19:06] Well, we had plans involving you. We still do._

_[19:06] Wilbur, I’d like you to be co-gym leader of Hammerlock with me._

_[19:12] Wilbur?_

_[19:21] Oh dear._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He doesn’t confront Techno. Doesn’t plan to. Messages from Niki blink his phone to life every couple of minutes, and he watches it buzz on his coffee table with no intention of picking it up. 

He sits and stares at it for hours. Eventually the phone falls silent for good, battery drained. He sits and stares all the same. Closing his eyes bring up those messages again; they are clear as day, as if his phone is still in his hand. 

Gym leader. _Co-gym leader._ Even more hours pass by like that, him sounding out the words. Learning how they taste. He doesn’t plan to do much of anything, except maybe knock on Phil’s door and beg for that trip - the one he so desperately wants. There’s still time. There’s a whole world out there where nobody knows him, where nobody has any expectations. People won’t look at him and say things, like how they _like his music_ or they _think he has potential._ It’s safer that way. Isn’t it?

He doesn’t confront Techno. The champion comes to him, letting himself in after a gentle knock. He thinks Wilbur has questions. Wilbur is honest with him: he wants to run from this. Phil’s only a corridor away. If he hurries, he can leave before Techno can do something awful like convince him to stay. To take the job. His voice breaks on _gym leader,_ his disbelief clear for Techno to notice, to pick at, to pull at the thread until he unravels into bits.

He’s flattered. Terrified, but flattered. This is big. This is every wish he’s ever had, morphed together into something so perfect he can hardly believe he isn’t dreaming. He hasn’t slept since Niki’s message yesterday; he knows he’s awake. 

Techno is the picture of apologies. He was always planning on letting him know, he has to believe him. Of course Wilbur does, he doesn’t think Techno would hide something like this from him till the last minute. It’s just - overwhelming. He wants to catch his gaze, hold it, and ask him _why?_ Niki is a gym leader. Surely she knows people. Surely there’s someone more suited. Wilbur might want this - Arceus, he wants this - but he knows this can’t really be his fate.

His eyes ask why, and Techno reads him like a book. 

His answer is clear and simple, and it slots itself into Wilbur’s mind like a missing piece. Techno and Niki don’t want anyone else for the job. They want him.

It’ll require harder training - Techno won’t be satisfied with him having the ability of a mere trainer anymore. He’ll have to be better, tougher, far more formidable than he’s ever dreamed of becoming, but Techno believes he can make it there, one day. 

The truth of the matter is, Niki can’t do it alone any more. With her grandfather retiring sooner than anyone expected, expectant eyes looked to her to keep Hammerlocke strong - uncaring of whether she was ready or not. Techno sighs. Nobody is denying Niki’s strength, but he’s watched her become more and more withdrawn during exhibition matches, eyes fixed firmly on the pitch and never searching for the audience. Asking after her health, learning of the pressure she is under to succeed and offering to find candidates to help lighten the load. 

Techno tells Wilbur how incredibly happy she was to meet him. Tells him that he’ll have the champion’s support, and a gym leader’s, too. So won’t he give it a shot?

  
  
  


Tommy is the first one he tells the news, and his immediate reaction is to send Cinderace after him, demanding a battle with laughter in his voice.

Tubbo feigns jealousy - but grins, saying something about his trainer card being worth a fortune. Quackity adds a peppermint hot chocolate to the specials menu, calling it the _Soot Dragon._ George adds it back onto the chalkboard, chuckling, everytime Wilbur rubs it off. 

Niki calls, that evening. This time (next time, every time after that) Wilbur answers the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh goodness. it has been a while, hasn't it? exams have been kicking my ass, and the week they end I catch covid. life, eh?
> 
> let me know what you all thought! i cannot get enough of this au. hope you all stay safe and have a good day/night.


End file.
